Faith and Fear
by Her Royal Nonsense
Summary: Unsurprisingly, Erik had not resisted arrest. The trial date had been set accordingly. I would meet him in five days. DISCONTINUED.
1. A Monkey's First Case

Hi, guys! Before you read on, please take a moment or two to read this author's note- there are a few details that I feel the readers should be made aware of. First and foremost, while this fiction may contain sprinkles here and there of an Erik/Christine pairing, it is not. There is an original female character here and the majority of this story will be told from her perspective. While I do not intend for it to be an Erik/OW romance at this point, I haven't completely ruled out the possibility. I will ask for your opinion further on (once I feel my character has been developed enough), whether or not to proceed with a romance. I've also tried my best to keep away from turning her into a Mary-Sue, but clearly you are the judge of that. One of the main reasons I am writing this piece is to be able to apply my coursework in a more unique, creative, and fun way rather than writing essays. Personally, I am in love with the subject material and am writing this as much for my own benefit as yours, and so it isn't really of much consequence to me whether or not my character is a Sue. Lastly, I've pushed the events of the original story ahead nearly 50 years, so instead it occurs around 1920 (the relations between canon characters will remain the same, but I need to do this mainly because I am horrible at writing period pieces). Also, while this legal system is probably inaccurate no matter where you come from- it will be much more reflective of a modern American/Canadian one than a French system. That said, I hope some of you are still with me, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

One thing I had learned very quickly about Parisian society was that it was unfortunately, incredibly vain. Perhaps not the same vanity as we know the term today, but prior to that time I had never given much thought into the importance of outward appearances. I did not see, as I do now, how something as complicated and diverse as character could be derived from one's appearance alone. Of course I am certainly not one to talk; admittedly, I am not entirely innocent of making quick, regressive judgements towards the homeless or the homosexuals. Guilty as charged. However, it was the injustices faced by a man they deemed a monster that would drastically change my own psyche forever. This poor man was doomed from the moment he was born; from the moment his mother screamed at the first glance of her son's pathetic, disfigured face. Fate had carved Erik's path in stone at that exact moment, for he never had the chance to lead a normal, happy life. He would always be 'the Devil's Child'. It truly was a pity.

The people versus Erik Dupuis was my very first case. In many ways, or at least in the courtroom, the trial was much more about me than it was about Erik. It was my first time in the limelight; it was what I had worked so long for. And here it was; my first case was essentially impossible to win. It was a lost cause, my brother had once said. Erik had nothing, he was nothing. There were much more pressing issues than Erik's freedom; my own public image was equally as important at the time. I had to hold my own against the district attorney; I had to control and manipulate the witnesses with ease. I had to convince everyone, including myself, that I was a good lawyer.

As my supervisor had informed me right at the very beginning, the facts were unmistakably clear. Erik had set fire to the Paris opera house, killing three patrons that night including one of the actors, Ubaldo Piangi. I assumed it was some kind of failed attempt to woo the leading lady, Christine Daae. In fact, I had later learned that almost everything he did was an attempt to have Miss Daae in his possession. It was a fact that would make defending him an even more difficult task, if it wasn't so already. A mob, consisting of various stagehands, angry patrons and a few officials had spontaneously formed to try and capture 'the Phantom of the Opera'. And they certainly did. Witnesses had reported seeing the crowd savagely beat the man once they had caught him. Officials had bound him with rope once the mob had gotten him outside. The sounds of it were apparently reminiscent of some kind of religious chanting. They had to capture him; dead or alive. The force was justified because Erik was much too dangerous to let go of; he was a serious threat to society. While that was probably true it was one of the only defences I had to begin with. A witness once told me that his face was completely covered in blood after they were finished with him. The only areas of his face which were clear were those where his tears had washed away the blood stains. Of course, this was only on the left.

Unsurprisingly, Monsieur Dupuis had not resisted arrest. The trial date had been set accordingly. I would meet Erik in five days.

* * *

Not even the cold chill of the wind could tarnish the absolute stillness of that January morning. The sun had just risen not thirty minutes ago and the landscape was still very quiet as the residents just began to wake up and prepare themselves for another day in Paris. A single trolley car headed south just a little ways towards the center of the city. Trailing further and further behind the tram was a woman; one hand gripping fiercely onto her briefcase while the other planted itself firmly on her overly large and unnecessary hat. Due to entire fault of her own she had just missed the boarding of the trolley, and her efforts to chase it were quickly becoming futile. It didn't take long for her to give up, since her little heeled feet were protesting lividly at the sudden stretch of exercise. She looked at her pocket watch; it was already well past seven thirty in the am and she was told to be there for eight.

_I knew I should have done my hair last night._

The latter half of the run took nearly fourty minutes, but she eventually arrived at her destination, albeit in a dishevelled state. Flinging open the courthouse's doors, she raced into the lobby area, running straight into her supervisor and colleague, Léon Durrante. The man caught and steadied her briefly before she took them both down.

"Christ, Beaupré. Get up or Rousseau won't think twice about suspending me or you." He said, gathering the stray pieces of papers that had fallen out of the file he had been holding.

Regina nodded, picking up a few of the papers and handing them to her supervisor as he grabbed her arm and helped her back to her feet. "Right, sorry Léon," she blurted, brushing of her skirt as the blonde man returned the hat to her head.

"You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry," she began as they started walking.

"Fix your skirt, and your blouse."

"Why?"

"Because you need to look good when you thank Rousseau."

_Well, goodness, why have I been wasting my time?_

Frowning, Regina shook her head. "Why would I want to thank Rousseau? I hate him; the man's a royal asshole. And he's never looked good a day in his life. Do you how long it takes to look like this for eight in the am…", she paused for the briefest of moments and plastered a less-than-honest but all the while cheerful smile upon her face, "Good morning, Mr. Martin!".

"Good morning, Regina," replied a man only slightly older looking than Léon who served as a bailiff.

As they started up the circular set of stairs, Léon continued, "He's given you a case."

"A case if scotch, right?" she muttered underneath her breath.

"Two counts of murder one, three counts of second-degree murder, kidnapping and arson no less," he handed her the folder of files.

"Really?"

"Yes."

In astonishment, she flipped through the various documents. "Erik Dupuis."

"He's probably better known as 'the Phantom of the Opera'."

"You're joking."

"No. You've never heard of it? Those chorus girls apparently wouldn't give it a break. They're worse than a damn sewing circle."

"Oh, yes, I think I remember hearing about this a few days ago. He set the whole opera house on fire."

"That's right. He killed one of the actors right on the spot; it was definitely pre-meditated. I'm not sure of the whole story. Somehow he had caused the chandelier to fall, resulting in three more deaths. Then he kidnapped the Viscount's lady friend. She was performing the opera at the time with it; Rousseau had said he was quite obsessed with her."

By coincidence, Regina's fingers were grazing over the particular record in which the girl's name was documented on. "Christine Daae."

"Yes", he replied quietly. "This was all in front of over fifteen hundred witnesses."

Sighing, the redhead shook her head in annoyance. "Great, so my first case I can't possibly win."

"Just take it as a learning experience, Regina. That's all you can do."

"Thank you for agreeing with me- oh, there's Rousseau", tucking the folder under her arm for a split second, she smoothed out her skirt, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. Her steps were evenly paced and announced as she approached her boss. "M. Rousseau, I would like to thank you very much for your confidence in me with handling this case. I can assure you I will-"

"I don't _have_ any confidence in you," the man stated harshly, his voice was almost condemning as he reached the word 'have'. "He's guilty. A complete idiot can try this case and not make it any worse. A _monkey_ can try this case and not make it any worse than it already is."

Regina stammered, trying to pull out of mid air a response to her boss's condescending remarks. "Thank you, Mr. Rousseau," she said, innocently.

"A monkey- remember that."

Turning back to Léon, she blinked, speechless. He shrugged in reply, "well, I guess that makes you the monkey then. Come on-", he lightly grabbed her arm as they crossed the short distance to the holding area. A guard held the door open for them, and another sat at a nice pinewood desk, his feet planted lazily upon the surface of it. Regina silently cursed incompetence as they approached him.

Léon was the first to speak. "M. Thomas, this is Regina Beaupré, she is the legal council for Erik Dupuis."

The guard snorted and pointed to the document on his desk. "Sign the release."

"Yes, Sir." She said quietly, taking the pen from his hands and quickly scribing her signature onto the report. She turned around as she felt her supervisor's hand on her shoulder.

"It is very important to listen to me right now. Keep a good distance away from the bars. This man is very dangerous, he wouldn't think twice about snapping your neck in two if given the chance."

"Léon-" she interjected briefly, "I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I'll be fine."

"Alright", he sighed, "I have to go. I'll see you tonight."

"Right."

The guard cleared his throat, and spoke rather loudly in an attempt to be heard over the display. "This way, miss."

The elevator ride down to the lower levels of the courthouse was awkward at best. The guard never said a word and Regina felt slightly out of place, but to her relief it did not last very long anyway. Thomas had unlocked two different sets of doors before entering the main holding area; which was simply one large cell. She followed the guard inside, keeping an eye on the cage intently. It took her a few moments to notice the chained figure in the furthest corner. He did not look in the healthiest of conditions- the bruises and cuts were still prominent, and Regina was sure that they were probably still infected. His arms were covering his head, but it also looked as if he was wearing a burlap sack as well. Regina frowned, looking back over to the guard. "Has he received any medical attention?" She asked quietly.

"As much as he needs."

"I'd like to go inside, please."

"What are you nuts?"

"Well, you have him on a short chain, I can see that much. I'd like to speak to my client face to face."

"Well, I suppose-" the guard began, opening the lock at the front of the cell, "you signed the release." He held the door ajar enough for her to slip inside. "It's your life."

Before he had a chance to lock the door again, Regina caught his hand. "But- if you could just stay there, that would be wonderful."

Turning back to the man in the cell with her, she placed the file down on a small table. "Good morning… M. Dupuis, is it?" She asked, although that name was certainly plastered all over the files- it never hurt to be sure. "Erik Dupuis, that is your name, correct?" She asked again, but he did not answer.

"Well," she began, walking a bit closer to the corner in which he was huddled. "If you can sing, you can certainly speak- so I know you're not mute, M. Dupuis." Again, all that she could hear was his steady, deep breathing. Clucking her tongue, she started again, "Erik Dupuis, I am just going to assume that is your name until you tell me otherwise, how about that? M. Dupuis, I am Regina Beaupré, and throughout the course of this trial I will be serving as your defence attorney. Anything you tell me, which at this particular moment does not seem to be much, will be protected under the attorney-client relationship. So, it is my wish for you to feel at liberty to answer my questions honestly, and in an entirely forthright fashion."

She watched closely as Erik shifted, exposing the burlap sack that covered his face. The sight unnerved her- why would they put that thing over his head? "You know, M. Dupuis, the trial is in a few weeks. We both have to be ready and willing to answer when our name is called. I can't help you unless you talk to me, Erik." She sighed in annoyance when he said nothing, and she couldn't help but raise her voice. "Are you listening?!"

"Jesus Christ," she muttered underneath her breath, as she sat down on the little wooden stool that was in another corner. Crossing her legs and leaning forward, Regina watched him for a few minutes; then she got bored. "Why don't you take that thing off your head, Erik? It's very hot in here. I don't know how you can stand it." His only response was to turn around, his back facing her. Once again crossing the short distance of his cell, she looked back at the guard to get his attention before reaching for the offensive piece of material.

Before she got even a chance to touch it, Erik was at his feet at once, grabbing her tightly by the shoulders as he drove her back into the bars. A whimper left her throat as she looked up, right into his golden eyes. Everything went still for a moment, and she would later swore that he had hissed something to her- although between the yelling of the guards and the pounding of her heart she could not hear whatever it was he had said. It was not long until several guards had Erik's hands pried from her shoulders, and one escorted her safely from the holding room.


	2. Silence is Deafening

That night, I chose not to go home. I all but locked myself in the public defender's office, pouring over the endless documents and records on my client. Much to my dismay, there wasn't enough here to make a statement, let alone a case. I needed for him to talk to me. I had read over his file thoroughly; nearly half a dozen times. I went over every detail in my head, but was the bias was so evident you could almost cut through it with a butter knife. Erik had all the odds stacked up against him, and he wasn't making it any easier on himself, or on me.

There were a few lines of defence that I had been considering from the on set, but more or less each and every one was likely to just lead him to the guillotine. Not guilty by reason of insanity or diminished capacity was of course, among the first of them and I had not entirely ruled them out. However, as I became more familiar with Erik's life through the files I had been provided, it was becoming more and more evident that this man was not as catatonic as I had initially assumed upon our first meeting. In fact, if the information in my file was correct, he was a genius; a jack of many trades. Though, an incredibly stubborn jack of many trades, no less.

The amount of frustration this brought to me at the time was substantial. While Erik Dupuis was my first case, he was everything I had hoped my first case **would not**_**, **_**would never **be. Even prior to my application and subsequent enrolment into Harvard Law, I had decided my first client would be an innocent man who had been unjustly accused. Not only would I win- not only would justice be served- but I had also assumed I would achieve an acceptable degree of fame and celebrity to accompany my well-earned success. However, that dream was becoming bleaker by the minute. It was being trampled and spit on with every passing day and I was powerless to stop it. Only one thing was evident; Erik was not an innocent man. I knew it. Léon and Monsieur Rousseau knew it. The prosecution certainly knew it; fifteen hundred audience members could bear witness to it; all the prosecution had to do was take their pick. I'm quite sure Erik himself was well aware of the crimes he had committed.

He wouldn't- he couldn't keep up this silence for long. I think we both knew he had no choice but to start talking soon. And he did; well, eventually.

* * *

No one was willing to take anymore chances. A little wooden desk had been set up outside the cell, and Regina settled without complaint. Even she would admit that, in retrospect of course, it was foolish to have entered the man's cell alone at such an early point in their relationship. It was a risk she was not entirely willing to take again; at least, not for a while. So, she sat there, legs crossed, one elbow planted firmly on the surface of the table with her chin settled in the same hand. She had been there for at least an hour, asking irrelevant questions and getting the exact same reply: absolutely nothing.

"M. Dupuis, what is it that you want?" She asked again, watching him very closely. "You know that it is your life at stake here." Regina chuckled quietly for a moment, "though, I assume you don't care about that- is that right?"

Leaning back in the chair, she inhaled deeply and began to twirl a lock of copper-toned hair. She was getting angrier and angrier with each passing moment. Why, it was no wonder why both Léon and M. Rousseau were all too happy to pass this case on; it was a dead end.

_My career is going to fail before it even had a chance to start. Wonderful._

"Listen, Erik- do you mind if I call you Erik?"

…

"Well, Erik, I apologize for my actions yesterday. I was unaware of the significance of your… mask. I can assure you it will not happen again." Regina looked up slightly then, believing she had heard a sigh. However, he had not moved, nor had he really given her any reason to assume he was listening. "If you disapprove with your assigned council, you may of course purchase a short consultation with a private attorney, however it is unlikely at this point that you will be appointed a new one unless it is absolutely necessary."

_Christ._

"What is it that you want?" She rose from her chair then, the annoyance and frustration was thoroughly evident in the tone of her voice. "Just please, tell me what you want. This silence M. Dupuis- it's not going to benefit you in any way. As I had said in our first meeting," she paused for a moment, crouching down by where Erik sat- although the bars were somewhat obscuring her vision of the man, "both of us have to answer when our name is called, you know. We can't do that if one of us is… catatonic. But I don't believe you are. I've read your file, M. Dupuis. You have a mastery over a variety of different arts- more than most people could ever dream of in a single lifetime. You're not catatonic or you would not have been able to write that opera. What was it called?"

Regina watched him closely for a moment, trying to catch a glimpse of his golden eyes but he would not look in her direction. After a moment, she sighed and returning to her feet, begrudgingly walking back to her desk in defeat. "I just want to help you, Erik. That's all I want to do," she sighed before continuing, "I can't make your case if you don't talk to me."

After no answer, Regina raised her hand in frustration. "Some of your possessions have been salvaged from the fire… I could claim them and bring some to you immediately. Anything, M. Dupuis, I just need you to talk to me. Just say anything."

_I think he's going to drive me insane. _

"Alright," she muttered, "I will be back tomorrow for a deposition if that is at all possible, M. Dupuis. If there is anything at all that you want- that I can get for you- please inform the guards and I will retrieve any of your possessions immediately," Regina placed the documents she had scattered on the desk into her briefcase delicately, snapping the locks. "Goodnight."

"I'd like to leave now, please," she stated quietly to the guard on duty, he nodded and led the girl to the elevator.

* * *

That night, Regina had left the office to join her family for dinner, as had been planned early on in the week. They were a close, tightly-knit family; her mother and father were still happily married- most of the time. Her father Marcel (who was quite a few years from retirement yet), had inherited a hefty sum of money decades ago with his own father's passing. Although in his opinion it was not enough to use as an excuse not to work, it was however enough to live rather comfortably and own quite a bit of land; besides, M. Beaupré enjoyed his work- as well as the respect that came with being an incredibly popular and talented attorney.

In fact, the profession seemed to run in the family. Gerald, the eldest son was a partner in his own firm along with a close friend he had met years ago in law school; of course, some of his credibility did come with having his father in the line, but the younger M. Beaupré did make a name for himself all on his own. He was now wed to a lovely young lady by the name of Julia, who got along well with the Lady of the household, Anna. Gerald and Julia did not live far and they would often be at the manor for dinner at least once a week. The men would be in the lounge, cigar in one hand and a glass of brandi in the other, discussing politics over a card game while the women would fulfill more traditional roles in the kitchen, cooking dinner while gossiping over lesser members of the community. There was a servant, and while usually she cooked and cleaned, as Anna was getting older she was also getting restless and chose to cook with her daughter-in-law on those nights when they visited.

Regina was the middle child, and it was not ten months ago that she returned from America with a degree in law and an empty wallet. Given, there were not a whole lot of opportunities available for a female attorney, but Gerald did manage to get her a job at the public defender's office. It was perhaps for this reason- possession of a law degree, that is, that Regina had a much closer relationship with her father and brother than her mother. She was still a bachelorette much to her mother's utter dismay, although she had been spending an increasing amount of time outside work with M. Besson. While this fact did stir tension among Regina and her mother, family was family. Well, for the most part. There was a third child, Gloria, but her name was not one to be mentioned.

"Pass the salt, won't you darling?" Anna asked her husband delicately, who obliged without a second thought.

Marcel cleared his throat while cutting a piece of tenderloin. "So Regina, how is this case looking for you?"

Gerald chuckled, speaking in her place. "Father, you know better than anyone she's not supposed to release any of that information yet…"

"I have nothing," the girl said finally, with a hint of disappointment in her tone, "There's not a whole lot to divulge anyway. I mean- not a lot yet. He doesn't talk to me. He just sits there. If I didn't know better I'd say he hated me from the moment I opened my mouth."

"Ask for a continuance."

"That's my intention," she replied, gathering a forkful of mashed potatoes. "Dad- you and mom went to the opera often didn't you?"

"I wouldn't say often-"

"Who did you see?"

"What do you mean, dear?" Anna asked politely.

"Who was the leading singer? The diva, I guess."

"Oh, gosh, I don't-"

"La Carlotta," Anna interjected quietly.

"You never saw Christine Daae?"

"No, you would hear about her often though. A lady at our church is actually married to one of the managers, you should speak to her; I do believe she was there that night."

"Thank you."

"Anyway," Gerald started, "Father, mother- we have some exciting news for you."

Regina's hand froze around her utensils, and she instantly turned towards Julia; her gaze lowering on her belly.

_Uh oh._

"Julia is pregnant-"

"With a baby?"

"Of course with a baby," Gerald chuckled at his sister's comment.

"Congratulations, my son," Marcel said finally, rising from his seat at the head of the table to embrace his son. "This is wonderful news."

After breaking open a bottle of champagne, the festivities lasted long into the night. Regina had originally planned on speaking to Gerald one and one about the case-regarding specifically the possibility of diminished capacity, but she saw no reason to spoil the evening. It could wait.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

Regina all but slid through the courthouse doors the next morning, this time however, she had managed not to run right into her supervisor- although, at the same time giving meaning to the phrase 'near miss'.

"I wonder what sort of dilemmas run through your head every morning," Léon began, sarcastically, "do I arrive ten minutes late or thirty minutes late?"

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," she replied, half-heartedly.

"Where have I heard that one before?"

Deliberately exercising her right to remain silent, Regina continued walking alongside the man. He spoke again, "Are you going to see your client?"

"I wanted to speak to M. Farrell about the possibility of a joint motion for continuance first." She turned to him as she heard him snort, "What?"

"Good luck."

"Why, thank you," she replied, almost haughtily. "There he is. I'll meet you in the office."

"Alright."

"M. Farrell, sir!" The tall, slightly balding older man turned around, a look of annoyance crossing his stern features as he looked for the source of the voice calling his name. "M. Farrell," she repeated, approaching him.

"Yes?"

"Sir, I'm Regina Beaupré, council for the defence…"

"Yes…"

"I would like to speak to you, sir, regarding the possibility of a continuance-"

"No." He interjected, his tone suggesting that there was very little point in contesting.

"But sir, you don't understand- he's practically… catatonic. You will not even consider a joint motion for continuance- not even in the interest of justice?"

"Listen, my dear", Regina silently blasted him for talking down to her, "I don't know who you pissed off to get this piece of shit case and quite frankly, I do not care. Dupuis is guilty, there's absolutely no logic in wasting anyone's time. No breaks."

"Sir, he just sits there- I can't even get him to speak to me," she pleaded, finding herself having a hard enough time keeping up with Farrell's long, quick strides.

"Sounds to me like he's practising for the guillotine. Why discourage it?"

"Sir…"

"No breaks!" He exclaimed finally, leaving no room for argument as he disappeared into one of the many corridors.

Regina sighed in indignation, sitting herself down on a bench quietly. She opened her file dejectedly, her fingers grazing over a photograph of Erik and Christine Daaé, as they had sung the final number of the opera. Well, the final number on that night in particular.

As she examined the photograph, she silently began to consider a perhaps more effective way in which to encourage Erik to speak to her; whether directly or indirectly, it had to be through Christine. "Yes," she whispered, gathering her things before quickly making her way to the public defender's office.

_

* * *

_

_Thanks for the reviews, everybody! I really appreciate it. :) _


	3. Tricks Up Her Sleeve

"Goodness, look at the size of this puppy," Regina exclaimed, as she casually slipped the ring on her index finger to better examine the luxurious assortment of diamonds.

Briefly, Leon looked up from the document in his hand to glance at the large engagement ring. "Raoul de Chagny certainly does not spare any expenses when it comes to his fiancée," he sighed, running one hand through his sandy blond hair.

"Apparently not," she whispered under her breath as she gazed at the diamonds fixatedly. "Anyway," Regina pulled the ring off her finger and held it in one hand, "Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae were engaged for months before... well, the word leaked out at a New Years masquerade party."

"What bearing-"

"Listen," she interjected hastily, "they must have wanted to keep it secret."

"Yes…."

"Look here," Regina pulled a photograph from her file and handed it to her supervisor. "The ring around her neck looks awfully similar to the one they pulled from Erik's person."

"Right."

"Now, I thought Erik was crazy but I'm beginning to think that they have all lost it. She wanted to hide her engagement ring from her stalker of what- six years?" Regina asked, but did not expect an answer before she continued, "And I was just thinking to myself- if I wanted to hide my engagement ring from my murdering, obsessive stalker, smack dab in the middle of my breasts would not be the most logical option."

"Well, Christine Daae doesn't appear to be the most logical individual."

Regina gingerly placed the ring back into the cardboard box of Erik's possessions. With the same care, she brought out a larger, heavier object wrapped in old, tattered fabric. "She'll be ridiculously easy to cross-examine," Regina stated, matter-of-factly.

"I imagine so," Leon responded under his breath, although his tone suggested he had more to say- but Regina didn't notice it.

She gently began to unwrap the porcelain mask that was salvaged from Erik's home beneath the opera house. "I'll have to be careful, I don't think he'll take kindly to my badgering of his little angel, neither would the Viscount- by the looks of it" Regina scoffed, turning the mask over to examine the back of it. If her supervisor had a reply, he did not offer it. "You know, I wonder what it would be like to have to wear this thing everyday." She asked aloud, although she wasn't really an answer. Slowly turning it back over, she examined it for a moment before returning it as well to the box with a heavy heart. "Anyway, I'm going to try to get him to say 'hi' to me. It just might work this time."

"By bribing him with paintings of Christine Daae?" Leon speculated, noticing the numerous rolled up scrolls.

"Precisely," she shrugged, gathering her own things, "Well, I suppose when all you have to look at all day are metal bars and ugly guards with heavy artillery, you'd appreciate a change of scenery too." Flinging her bag over her shoulder, she grasped the box by its handles and made for the door. However, her supervisor's voice rang out before she was able to leave the office.

"Regina-" he began, "don't count on Christine testifying in court."

She turned around, leaning on the door frame. "Why?"

"I doubt that de Chagny will allow Dupuis within a mile of her- let alone in the same room."

Regina looked to the left in thought for a moment before replying, "I would test the contrary. I think Raoul de Chagny would like nothing more than to see Erik's head in the brace of the guillotine. I think it would please him to no end, and if Christine's testimony is what it takes- then," she shrugged, "so be it."

* * *

"Thank you, sir," Regina whispered as she was permitted into the holding area. Once again, the desk had been set up outside of Erik's cell. Each step was evenly paced and announced as she approached the small area. She set the box on the chair and her briefcase on the table; after unhooking the latches she took out her files and arranging them neatly across the desk. Next she placed the box on the ground and settled herself into the chair, crossing her legs and clearing her throat before she gave him another shot. "Hello, M. Dupuis."

Regina wasn't surprised to hear absolutely nothing. It was becoming a recurrent theme in her life as of late.

"How are you holding up?"

…

"I see. That's… good," she responded, trying to hold in a mad chuckle as it seemed she was talking more to herself than to Erik. She could see through the slits in the burlap his eyes visibly narrowing; perhaps an expression of his distaste at her amusement. "Listen, Erik. Who am I kidding? I know that you don't like me-" She paused, frowning slightly as she swore she heard a sarcastic snicker, "But, right now, I'm the only friend you have. I'm not going to sugar-coat this for you- there are quite a number of people who will stop at nothing to see your head beneath the guillotine's blade," she admitted darkly, one brow arching slightly as she tucked a cigarette into her dinner-length long holder and used a match to light it. "I'd offer you a cigarette, but I don't take you to be much of a smoker, M. Dupuis."

Rising to her feet, Regina began to pace around the outer length of the cell, finally stopping behind where Erik sat in silence. "I know you're not catatonic. I know you're incredibly intelligent. I wouldn't doubt you're having a ball right now, keeping a… monkey in suspense. I'm loosing the game, and I know that. But Erik, we'll lose your case if you don't talk to me. And if I lose your case, you'll lose your life. I don't know how to make you understand this, and so your co-operation with me is at the utmost importance at the moment. I can't do my job until you talk to me." Regina watched him for a moment, trying to appear as compassionate and sincere as she possibly could under such frustrating circumstances.

Walking back to her desk, she sat down in utter dejection. She took another swig of her cigarette before turning to the documents detailing his relationship with Christine Daae. Most of it elaborated on his possessive and abusive nature toward the girl, but considering the majority of the information here was likely to have been provided by the de Chagny family, she had made an attempt to study it from a more objective point of view. Perhaps he was abusive and possessive, but Regina had also gathered that he was obsessive and in love with her. After all, why go to such extremes? Sitting here in front of her, Erik did not look like the cruel man that these files would have her believe that he was. Sitting here in front of her with the burlap sack covering his entire face, he looked like a pitiful man who had lost any reason he once had to live. He looked like a man who had nothing at all in this world. Although pity and sympathy was an emotion that she did not express often, she did feel a sense of pity for this man right now. Regina wanted to help him and while a part of this desire could be chalked up to the fact he was her first client, she also felt sadness for this lonely, lost- broken man.

"So," she began quietly, writing the name 'Christine' down on a scrap piece of paper. "How many years did it take you to make the little chorus girl the lead singer in that opera?" Up until this moment, he sat perfectly still; the only movement being the rhythmatic rise and fall of his steady breathing. However, she could see that any sort of mention of Christine was enough to cause him to flinch. She tried to force away the slightest of smirks as she came to the realization her ploy might just work. "You began training her voice from when she was very young, didn't you? It was not long after her father died, am I right?"

Erik shifted uncomfortably, clearly not at ease with his attorney's mentions of his angel. A growl began to rise in his throat- not entirely sure where she was planning on going with this. Did she plan on reminding him of Christine's engagement to that foolish boy? If so, this was a ridiculously stupid attempt to get him to react; and he was not having it. In as much of an act of defiance he could muster being trapped once again in a cage; he turned his back to the woman and sat absolutely still, not letting her receive any satisfaction in knowing that she was conjuring up particularly difficult memories for him.

"You loved her very much, didn't you?" Regina asked him softly. "I would imagine it hurt very much to let her go. I think you are a very strong individual for being able to do so." She drew a circle around Christine's name on the document in front of her, "What was her name? It seems to have escaped my memory at the moment." Biting her lip, Regina raised her eyes to Erik's still figure. "Carlotta?"

Erik hissed bitterly, unbelieving that anyone could confuse Christine's innocent, virginal beauty with Carlotta's hideousness. "Her name is Christine," the Phantom spat out, hatred almost dripping from his tone.

"Bingo. I know you had it in you, M. Dupuis," Regina exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to Erik's anger as she tapped off some ashes into the small tray and marched closer to where Erik was sitting, crouching down to be at his level. "Everyone you killed- it was for her, wasn't it Erik? In one way or another. Joseph Buquet, Piangi, it was all part of some elaborate attempt to try to have her, wasn't it? Erik, why did you kill them?" She crushed her cigarette butt and gripped the bars fiercely in both hands. "Don't do this now, Erik, you just spoke!"

When it was clear he wasn't going to say any more, Regina sat back in her heels, sighing heavily and shaking her head in disappointment. "Damn it," she whispered. Rising to her feet, she wondered back to the desk and sat down; silently contemplating the possibility of quitting. It would probably please her to no end to march right up to Rousseau's office, announce her resignation, and watch him play 52-pick up with her files. Yes, that would make her happy.

_If only father didn't fork over thousands of dollars for university and law school._

Instead, she considered another approach. "I have brought some things for you, Erik," Regina started quietly, gently taking out the bundle of fabric that housed his mask from the box. "It isn't much, but they have allowed you to have a few things in your cell. They were taken from your home underneath the Opera House- they're in good condition. I will make you a deal," she paused and her eyes narrowed as the tattered fabric dropped to the ground, revealing the white, porcelain mask, "you have to tell me one thing about whatever I ask, and I will give you one of your possessions. Since you did… correct me, I'll give you your mask right now. It is… slightly more dignified than that _thing_ they gave you. Here." Regina crouched down again, offering the mask to him through the bars. She wasn't going to just place it down for him to take later; she was going to stay in this spot until he gave in and simply took it from her.

Minutes of absolute silence went by, but Erik eventually turned to face her. He inched closer, just enough to take the mask from her grasp. She clasped her hands just as he turned around, replacing the disgusting burlap for his own porcelain, half-mask. Turning back towards the young woman, he licked his lips before speaking. "Thank you," he responded hesitantly but honestly, as she nodded in understanding before returning to her desk.

* * *

_Upon my first meeting with her, I did not believe she was sufficient of age for the practise of law. I had expected to have been appointed some arrogant middle-aged man who would see no po__int in consulting with me on my own case. To say the least, I was utterly surprised when Mlle. Beaupr__é announced herself as my attorney. To be honest, I was not pleasantly surprised either. She was overly ambitious and quite… annoying, and more than a little unprofessional, to say the least. It seemed as if she thought that I actually cared about my own welfare, which was entirely untrue. I was all too happy to die, which was part of the reason I chose not to cooperate with her at first. There was no point to my life if there wasn't Christine. You see, she was my everything- there was no way more appropriate to put it in perspective for you. It did not matter whether or not I lived or died; because I did not have Christine. I had no reason to live, and I was not afraid of death._

_I didn't think Regina was bright enough to ever understand this, and I did not expect to ever cooperate with her in her 'valiant' attempts to rescue me from my execution. I did however, underestimate her; it did not take her long to bring up my relationship with Christine. It didn't take her long to use this as a weapon against me; a method in which to coerce me into compliance, and she was all too willing to use it. I thought she was ridiculous for mistaking Christine with Carlotta, and as intentional as it was, I understand it was a desperate attempt to pull a reaction from me. It did not work as well as she would have preferred, but plan b made up for it. _

_As she offered my mask as a 'reward' for information, I could not keep myself from recalling that exact instance in my home with Christine; her beautiful, little hands shaking in fear of my temper as she offered the porcelain back to me. I had been so cruel to you, my Christine; I know now you did not deserve it. When Regina crouched down to my level, holding that mask more steadily than Christine ever could I knew I was making a promise if I took it- however unsaid as it was. We would have to work together to achieve our ends. I would have to live- if only for a few months. _

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! If there's anything you'd like to see in particular- any comments about the story line or the characters – please drop a line. As I said in the beginning of the first chapter, I'm trying my hardest to keep Regina from becoming a Mary-Sue, so any comments on that would be wonderful as well.

Anyway, I hope you all are enjoying this so far. Cheers!


	4. Running Out Of Time

A/N: Just a few things to be aware of. First: Erik's history is a combination of both Kay and ALW- but I've taken a few liberties here and there (so anything that's 'wrong', lets just say it was intentional). Don't ask me what 'kind' of Erik it is- I have no idea. It's the Erik in my head (no pun intended). So, whichever Erik you prefer… Secondly, I realize that I've never written any disclaimers for this story- I don't own anything, and I'm not making any money off of this. I'm not making any money at all, actually. Well, I suppose I own my OCs, but that's more than a little kinky, isn't it? Never mind. And lastly, thanks to all who reviewed- and SJ. Endeavor- who has agreed to beta read this for me! This chapter was actually really fun to write- especially the first scene after the narrative here. Hope you all enjoy. Cheers!

_

* * *

_

_Erik was born to Charles and Madeleine Dupuis on the eve of December 26__th__, 1883 in a small township not far from Rouen. Charles died not too long after his son's birth in a workplace incident, leaving his young widow to raise Erik alone. My original documents on his childhood were not complete on any account for I had to rely solely on Erik's testimony, as well as the testimonies of several other individuals to fill in the blanks. _

_As a boy, he did not have a happy childhood. There were no celebrations of birthdays in his household; no Christmases nor Sunday morning church services. Madeleine Dupuis was not ecstatic over his first word, nor did she show any interest in his natural talent for playing the piano. She forbid the little boy from leaving the house, and did not allow him to have any friends visit- although, I highly doubt he had any to begin with. When he was ten, a close friend of her own suggested that Erik needed some kind of __**positive**__ social interaction- a companion of sorts- and so that evening she had surprised her son with a black border collie, Sasha. He held the animal very dear to his heart._

_There was only one instance that he ever went out and asked anything of his mother; a birthday gift- two kisses to be exact. His mother, however, gagged and ordered him to never, ever ask that of her. The matter was never brought up again. _

_A year or two later, a group of local and no less barbaric children attacked and tortured Erik's beloved pet. He fought them off and received quite a few nasty injuries, but he wasn't as concerned for himself as he should have been. What mattered most to the younger, innocent shadow of the boy Erik once was: his only companion- his only friend- was gone and there was nothing that could have been done about it. While his relationship with his mother was indeed improving, he ran away that night, and that was the last time he would ever see his mother alive._

_Erik stumbled into a gypsy camp, where he would live in a cage as a circus freak for nearly two years. Everyday he would face a cruel amount of humiliation, until he decided he had enough. He killed the gypsy captor who exploited him. A young girl aided in his escape, and they would become close friends. She brought him to the opera house, and he would reside there until he was old enough to travel. I suppose being confined to an attic, a cage, or a cellar would take it's toll on one's state of mind- perhaps he needed to feel 'free' for one moment in his life. And so, Erik left the opera house for a short period of time, finding shelter with a master mason in Rome. This settlement, however, did not last very long and he was forced to return to the France sometime later as a young man. Erik would build his home in the fifth cellar beneath the opera house._

_The next decade would be relatively uneventful- nothing of dire significance to note. Of course, that was until he heard a young girl by the name of Christine Daae sing to the spirit of her deceased father. Although he no doubt knew he shouldn't have, he sang back to the little girl with the angel's voice- and this motion would change both of their lives forever. _

_I bet he had no idea what he had gotten himself into._

* * *

"Erik, I need witnesses. The preliminary hearing is tomorrow, and I have nothing to show for you," Regina exclaimed hurriedly, pulling several documents out of her briefcase carelessly.

"I do not have any-"

"You must have-"

"Will you let me speak, woman!?" Erik stood up finally, for the first time since their less-than-friendly primary meeting. Regina was reminded of how much he practically dwarfed her, and she pursed her lips, slightly intimidated by his height advantage. However, she was not one to show it and she made a small hand-gesture, motioning for him to 'go ahead'. While she didn't speak, the movement was no less irritating to Erik. "No one will speak for me. I have no companions or colleagues."

"You've lived for thirty some-odd years and you do not know anyone who could speak for you? Not even a co-worker? What about-"

"There is none. I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop this badgering now, girl."

Regina stood up and approached him- so far as only the bars of his prison separated them. "I am going to set you straight about the way you speak to me," she said, her eyes widening as she watched him chuckle darkly. It was almost unnerving. "I will be your legal representation in that courtroom. Which means, Monsieur _Phantom_, your livelihood rests in my ability to make credible excuses for you in front of twelve good people who would very much like to see you hung by your own noose."

"Well, thank you for that, my dear. That is certainly comforting to know," he hissed back, haughtily. "Do you speak to all of your 'clients' in such an… unprofessional manner?"

Regina thought for a moment, inwardly arguing with herself whether to continue this parade of insult after insult, or to be honest with her client. When she did not answer, Erik walked away, his back to her as he sat back down on the make-shift bed. Finally, "you are my first."

Again, Erik chuckled, though he was not entirely surprised. "Of course I am. After all- why provide a monster with a competent defender?"

Regina scowled loudly, "My goodness- what is your problem? Have I offended you in some way?"

_Yes, your very presence here offends me. I would have much preferred to die in peace._ Erik thought to himself, but did not answer vocally.

Regina sat down dejectedly, lighting a cigarette- as was typical when she felt under stress. At this rate, she was going to have cancer by tonight. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, both silently fuming at each other. Regina tapped the ashes off and began quietly, "the managers paid you twenty-thousand francs a month, they said. It seems to me that it would not be difficult for you to pay for your own private attorney."

Erik did not answer, and Regina exhaled slowly. "Would you like to be assigned another attorney, Erik?"

He licked his lips before responding, "I believe you said that it was impossible."

"I can quit," she shrugged, "I am sure my employer would harbour no qualms with it," Regina said quietly, more to herself than the man. Quitting suddenly didn't look like such a bad alternative to humiliating herself in a courtroom of her peers. She could always just work with her brother if she had to. "If it is your wish, that is. There is no point in wasting anyone's time."

Erik looked at her for a moment, watching her as she sat there- watching him with that vile-smelling, burning stick between her fingers. Would he be better able to tolerate an arrogant, middle-aged, capitalist male more than this woman? "No, that is not my wish," he responded quietly as he turned away from her.

"Then what is it you expect from me, Erik? Do you have any interest in this trial at all? It is your life that is at stake here." The silence lasted for an unreasonably long time. Neither knew what to say. To be entirely honest, Erik did not know what he wanted. He knew what he didn't want; he did not want to 'live' the rest of his life without his Christine. It was her kiss that freed him in the truest way imaginable. It was her kiss that made him realize what he did was wrong. It was her kiss that redeemed _him,_ and he paid the price by her hand. Her hand- which would soon belong to Raoul de Changy. Whether or not it was granted rightfully, he did not know in its entirety. And now, by some mockery of fate, he was in another cage- forced to pay yet another price for his sins, as if loosing Christine was not enough.

Perhaps he deserved death. Perhaps she was wasting her time.

Erik did not realize just how long he held his silence. For when he opened his mouth to respond, it dawned that Regina had left without a word.

* * *

"Two new members of the jury, that is it," Judge Chaffee said, signing the release papers placed on the bench for him by the bailiff.

"But sir, I-"

"That is not negotiable, please sit down."

"Yes, Your Honour," Regina replied, sitting back down at the defender's table. She looked briefly towards Leon, who was sitting directly on her right.

"M. Farrell, are you ready to go to trial?" The judge called out to the prosecution, who agreed almost systematically.

"And what about you, Mlle. Beaupre?"

Regina tapped her fingers on the desk nervously before rising to her feet. "Your Honour, I'd like to ask you for a continuance of thirty days in which to confer with my client regarding his case-"

"Thirty days?" The prosecution piped up, amusement lacing his tone. "I must protest. Hundreds of theatre patrons saw this man commit murder, I do not see how there can be any doubt in anyone's mind that Erik Dupuis is a murderer. It is so clear; I would say the defendant would only need three minutes."

"Your Honour, the defendant has barely spoken to me from the moment we met. He has been almost… catatonic. It was only yesterday that I was able to get him to discuss the case with me. I realize that we were all expecting to wrap this up in record timing- but, in the interest of justice, I will need more time in order to provide M. Dupuis with the most competent defence I can, sir," she requested, "please move to consider."

An incredibly wary look crossed the judge's features, and he looked towards Leon, who sat silently at the bench beside her. "M. Durrante," he began, "do you think a continuance is necessary in Dupuis' case?"

Leon looked towards Regina for a split moment, then back towards the judge. "While I do not believe a period of thirty days is entirely necessary, I do think it would be in the interest of justice to grant the council for the defence a period of time to better prepare for trial. I have seen some of the facts in this case, and I don't believe they are as clear-cut as the prosecution would have us believe. Additionally, the defendant has been hostile with Mlle. Beaupre, and as she stated it is very possible he is catatonic."

Judge Chaffee looked back towards Regina, who nodded her thanks to her supervisor. "Counsellor, approach the bench." As she did so, the judge lowered his voice. "It appears to me as if you are laying the grounds for not guilty by reason of insanity. Is that was this is?"

"I don't know yet, Your Honour."

"I will give you one week," he said, his voice rising gradually as he spoke. "This day next week, you will walk into this courtroom and tell me that you are ready to go to trial, and if you cannot, you will request a competency hearing. Is this understood?"

"Yes Your Honour."

"Very well," Judge Chaffee brought down his gavel. "This court is adjourned; we will meet in one week."

One by one, the lawyers, other officials, and a few spectators who had attended the hearing filed out from the courtroom. Regina was giving her thanks to her supervisor for backing her up as she felt a light touch on her arm. She turned around, startled, to find an older woman staring up at her. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

"You are Erik Dupuis' attorney?" The woman asked.

Regina furrowed her brow. "Yes."

"I am Antoinette Giry, may I speak to you?"

"Giry- I have heard that name before…" Regina said, more to herself than to anyone else. "Ah, yes. You are the ballet mistress at the Opera Populaire?"

"Oui, mademoiselle. I would like to speak to you about the man you are defending."

"Yes, of course. Please come with me, Madame Giry."

_

* * *

_

_Alright, for those who are more efficient in law than I am- please don't like, kill me or anything. All I have to go off of is a third year 'Public Law' course- so obviously my knowledge on judicial hearings is not quite as complete as it should be._

_Thanks. Review, pretty please?_


	5. Biting the Hand

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, darlings. Nothing much to say here; other than that I have changed Leon's last name in the previous few chapters, not that it's a big deal or anything, heh. This will be my last update for a while: unfortunately its time for term papers and exams. But good news, it's about a thousand words longer than the others!

* * *

"Please have a seat, Madame Giry. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes please," the older woman responded in a thick French accent. Regina nodded, handing the steaming cup to the ballet mistress. She then returned to her seat on the opposite side of the desk, opening the top drawer to retrieve a pen and some paper.

"Any information you tell me during this session will remain entirely confidential. Nothing will leave this room without your explicit permission."

"I understand."

"How long have you known Erik Dupuis?"

Antoinette hesitated for a moment, tapping her fingers on the desk. Regina looked up towards her, noticing the older woman's animosity. "Madame Giry, please feel free to answer my questions in a completely honest and forthright fashion."

"I have a few of my own first, if you would, Mlle. Beaupré."

"Of course."

"How is he doing?"

Blinking twice, the lawyer leaned back in her seat slightly. She took a moment to respond, "quite well, especially for someone with everything to lose."

"He may be executed…" Antoinette whispered, more to herself than to the younger.

"Yes, that is very possible."

Antoinette rose to her feet then, and walked dejectedly towards the large window that over-looked the front street. Her back was towards Regina, who watched the older lady closely from her own chair. "You do not understand," Antoinette said sharply.

"What is it I don't understand, Madame?" She asked.

"He has lost everything already."

"By 'everything', I can only assume you imply Christine Daae, yes?" Regina waited for her nod before continuing, "If I understand his circumstance correctly, he never quite 'had' her, did he?"

"It is much more complicated than that, mademoiselle. Have you ever loved before, mademoiselle?"

"Of course, I love my parents and my brother very deeply-"

"That is not what I mean-"

Regina sighed, running a slender hand through her red hair. "Madame Giry, I have not brought you here to discuss my love life._ Erik's _life is at stake here, and I would appreciate any help you can offer me pertaining to his particular case."

"Forgive me, I was too bold."

"It is not necessary that you apologize. Now, how long have you known Erik?"

"We were very young; I was training as a ballerina in the opera house. We were visiting a travelling fair- Erik, he was there."

"He doesn't exactly strike me as who would take an interest in clowns or baton twirling-"

"He was not a patron, Mlle. Beaupré," Antoinette uttered softly.

Regina paused for a moment, her expression unreadable. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"He was in the fair, mademoiselle. He was 'the Devil's Child'."

"This has all to do with his face, yes?"

"Yes, it does. They were- beating him because of it. I helped him escape into the opera house- he has lived beneath it for the majority of his life since," Antoinette was shaking visibly now, Regina noted but did not attempt to console.

"You care very much for him," she stated, clearing her throat as she watched the older woman nod. "Madame Giry, I would like for you to be a witness."

"I cannot- I- you must understand, mademoiselle, I am not comfortable with speaking in front of large groups of people- especially in such a setting-"

"My partner- Léon Durrante, is excellent at preparing witnesses for the stand. He will take you through it one step at a time. We will do or best to ensure that you are as comfortable as possible,"

"I do not-"

"Please, Madame Giry. Erik needs more individuals to come and speak for him; we only have one so far. I am not at liberty to discuss this information, but I believe it is important for you to hear it," Regina lowered her voice and leaned forward. "Erik is dangerously close to being executed. This is little more than an open and shut case, and it is very likely that the jury and the judge already have their minds set. He will not survive if more people do not come forward, I am afraid," she whispered, raising the steaming cup of tea to her lips.

"If he is executed, will it be a public execution?"

"More than likely."

"Mlle. Beaupré, I do not condone what he did. This is one of the reasons I aided Raoul de Chagny with finding his home. Erik- he is unpredictable, and part of me was concerned for Christine's safety. He was not in his right of mind that night."

_Obviously, _Regina thought, almost subconsciously. She did not, however, interrupt the woman.

"I do not think he deserves death," Antoinette continued quietly.

Regina was unsure whether she agreed with that statement, but she did not voice her concerns. She did not know Erik as intimately as Christine Daae or even Madame Giry did. She saw what any lawyer would see; a man who has murder one on his head. It was painfully obvious that Erik had killed not only Ubaldo Piangi but Joseph Buquet as well. She had not planned on wasting her time to prove that he was innocent of these crimes, but she had decided sometime before that he should not be held entirely responsible for them.

"He did not deserve the life he had been dealt. I have always wished it would have been different for him. He had the potential to become something wonderful," Antoinette sighed, resting her hand across her mouth as she felt tears begin to string her eyes. Regina did not move, simply watching with silent fascination. If she did not know any better, she would have guessed this woman loved him as well- in a more platonic fashion, however.

"Did Christine love Erik, Madame?"

"I do not know. He certainly loved her, but I do not believe it was reciprocated entirely. She chose the Vicompte, but Erik loved her enough to let her go. He is a good man-"

It was at that moment that a knock sounded on the other side of her office door, and Regina excused herself briefly to answer it. "Lé- M. Durrante, we were just speaking about you not long ago. This is Madame Antoinette Giry, she was an associate of my client, and a potential witness," she continued as Antoinette rose to her feet and took Léon's hand to shake. "I was just telling her that your skills in preparing witnesses are excellent."

"Thank you, Regina." He responded smoothly, offering a boyishly charming smile to both his co-worker and Antoinette Giry. "I am afraid I must steal you away for a moment," he began firmly.

"Of course," Regina interjected, turning back towards Antoinette. "If you change your mind, please feel at liberty to get in contact with me," she said, offering a small card from her desk to Antoinette.

"I will think about it, mademoiselle."

"Thank you very much, Madame Giry."

Both lawyers watched as the older lady exited the public defender's office, donning cheerful expressions that may not have been entirely sincere. "I think she'll do it," Regina said as soon as it was clear she had left, her arms crossed as she leant against the doorframe.

"My job is to make sure you do your job, Regina. Not to prepare your witnesses."

"I know," she sighed, "but if you cannot- if you won't, rather- I could use some pointers. Putting people at ease was never a strong point of mine in Harvard. Anyway, what do you have there?" She asked, taking note of the two folders under his arm.

"I have another case for you."

"Let me guess- a grenade to Town Hall."

"Not quite,"

"Léon, I don't think I can handle anything else right now."

"I'm afraid there has been an increase in illegal activity across Paris, you have no other choice. Rousseau handed them out to everybody. Trial date isn't for a while anyway; you can focus on Dupuis for a bit."

"Mmhmm," she said, taking the file from the man and scanning it briefly before all but throwing it on her desk.

"What are you doing tonight?"

Regina bit her lip before responding, "Well, I had planned on meeting with Gerald after I am done in the office for tonight."

When the man offered no response, Regina felt required to clear things up. "Listen, Léon," she began awkwardly, "I know you and he are still not on speaking terms. But I think it might be worth it for you both to just… give it up I suppose. Besides, Julia is pregnant now, and you'd probably be awarded god-father privileges if you weren't such a scrooge."

Léon gave a sarcastic nod before hastily bidding her goodnight, not bothering to argue with her. Regina just shook her head in mild amusement, sifting through the various documents she had spread out in front of her during the short conference with Antoinette Giry. She had to speak with Erik briefly before she left, and although she would never admit it outwardly, she began to dread doing so. So far, the meetings had proved to be an awkward waste of time as he was rarely co-operative and she struggled with her patience (or lack there of, rather).

Not to mention she felt she was pulling teeth.

* * *

"The preliminary hearing was today, Erik."

Erik did not respond, and Regina quickly assumed he did not care. She licked her lips before continuing, "We have another week before the trial."

"Well, congratulations," he bit back aggressively, causing the woman to roll her eyes.

"Give it up."

Erik chuckled darkly, before gesturing to the box she had left outside the cell, just out of reach. "Is this your intention, mademoiselle, to taunt me with my belongings?"

"I do not want you to forget our arrangement, monsieur,"

"I have not-"

"But you have told me nothing I can use. Therefore, I am not handing any of this over," she stated matter-of-factly, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. When he did not respond, she continued, "Antoinette Giry had come to speak to me today. I have asked if she would be a witness, but she needs time to make her decision."

"That is not surprising; Antoinette had betrayed me, I would imagine she would be rather hesitant to aid in sparing me."

Regina looked up for a moment, watching Erik intently. She bit her lip, "what do you mean?"

"She aided _that boy_ into finding my home-"

"After you took Christine?"

Erik breathed between clenched teeth before responding, "yes."

"Why do you think she did this?"

"If you are trying to convince me that I am wrong, it will not work. Everything that occurred was a result of Christine's actions-"

Regina sighed loudly, "Erik, you were the one who kidnapped her. You are the one who killed for her. This is not acceptable behaviour, and you have to learn to take responsibility for it."

_Perhaps I should not mention quite yet that I will try to prove that you should not be held responsible; ah, the irony of it all, _she thought.

"I appreciate your concern," he mocked sarcastically. "I believe I have given you enough, it is time to keep your end of the bargain."

Regina sighed as she pulled the box forward, fishing through it to find something appropriate. She was seriously considering pulling out Christine's engagement ring, just to see his reaction… but she feared he would become even bitterer than he already was. She decided to leave that one for later. "Which Christine would you like, A or B?" She asked haughtily, holding up two portraits of Christine the authorities had retrieved from his home. Quite frankly, she was surprised they had allowed her to give the pieces to him. Understandably, Erik did not answer, and she did not expect him to. "A it is," she told herself, rising briefly to put the portrait through the bars.

"Well, just so you know, Raoul de Chagny, Carlotta Giudicelli and both the managers of the Opera Populaire are confirmed as witnesses at this point. We are not sure if Christine will testify as of yet, but she will be there on either account. Just to warn you." Regina told him, gathering her things. "Anyway, I will come by tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do."

* * *

Regina knocked on her brother and sister-in-law's apartment door, happy to discover that they were home when Julia welcomed her in. "Regina, it is nice to see you," the brunette exclaimed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"And you as well," Regina smiled, minding her manners as she removed her heels.

"Please do not mind the mess, I have been in and out all day and Gerald has rarely left his office. Please, have a seat, he is just meeting with someone at the moment, he said he should be finished soon. Would you like some tea?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you, Julia" she smiled. Regina sat herself down and playing absentmindedly with her hands before sparing a glance to the newspaper on the end table beside her. The headline glared up at her, 'Monster captured; trial about to begin'. Rolling her eyes, Regina picked up the paper.

_I wonder who this is about._

Noting it was dated only a few days ago, she scanned the piece briefly. There were a few quotes by Carlotta and a 'Meg' Giry, who she assumed to be a relative of Antoinette, but Raoul de Chagny was not featured, much to her disappointment. She would need more on him.

Julia had just strolled back into the living area with two delicate cups of tea, "here you go," she said quietly.

"Thank you."

"So, how have you been? It has been quite sometime since we had last spoken."

Deciding it was best not to juggle a large newspaper and a steaming cup of tea at once, Regina placed the paper down on the coffee table directly in front of her. "I have been rather busy- this case has taken up quite a bit of my time-"

"I meant aside from your case," Julia said softly, watching the lawyer furrow her brows in slight confusion.

"What do you mean? I have been fine, I suppose."

"Well, I hear that your mother is concerned."

_Don't even go there, you sneaky little runt. I would appreciate it if you hurried now, Gerald. _"About what?" She smiled automatically, raising the tea-cup to her lips.

"Most women your age have found an appropriate suitor by now-"

"I'm only 24-"

"Yes."

"I am terribly busy, Julia. I barely have time for myself, let alone someone else. Finding a husband is not at the peak of my priorities at the moment. I would very much like to get myself established in this career first. After all, father invested too much money into my education for me to throw it away at this point."

"I suppose that's true, but what about that man who wor-"

"As I said, we will meet again sometime next week to discuss those matters more critically," Gerald Beaupré was saying as he exited his office with a much older looking gentleman. Regina rose to her feet to approach her brother. "Ah, M. Lefebvre, this is my sister Regina. I'm sure you remember; she works under M. Rousseau in the public defender's office."

"Ah, yes, the Dupuis case, am I correct?"

"That's right," Regina said kindly, taking the man's offered hand.

"Regina, M. Lefebvre is a senior-level bureaucrat in the justice department," Gerald was saying politely.

"I see," she responded, although her thoughts had altered slightly.

"Well, I should be leaving now," Lefebvre began, "you have a good night. And good luck on your case, mademoiselle, from what I heard about your client, you may very well need it."

"Thank you, monsieur." Both lawyers watched as the man left, and Gerald beckoned his sister into his office not many moments afterwards. After he shut the door, Regina was the first to speak. "I'm sorry I did not call sooner-"

"Nonsense," her brother responded casually, taking a seat an armchair as he gestured for her to sit as well. "You do not need to call."

"Business appointment?" Regina asked with a smirk, pointing at the glass of vodka he had in his hand.

"Would you care to join me?"

"Oh, would I ever."

Gerald smiled, picking up an empty glass from a small cupboard in the corner and poured two shots of vodka onto some ice. "Here you go."

"Thank you."

"Anyway, what do you have for me, my dear?"

Regina took a small sip of the bitter liquid before rummaging into her briefcase to pull out her file on Erik. When she found it, she passed it to her brother. "Two counts of first-degree murder, three counts of second, arson, and kidnapping. Erik Dupuis- age 36- lived underneath the Paris opera-house for the vast majority of his life. Quite a few years ago he came into contact with a young girl named Christine Daae, and when she filled out in the breasts and the hips he started to become sexually attracted to her," she paused for a moment to breathe, "he kidnapped her- twice. Once was after her debut as the leading character of whatever opera was being performed at the time- she was missing for a few days before showing back up. The second time was when she was performing an opera he wrote, and he kidnapped her then as well. In between these two instances he had killed a stagehand by the name of Joseph Buquet- hung by the neck from the rafters. The second murder was Ubaldo Piangi- a performer in the opera as well. Again, by the noose."

"He cut down the chandelier as well, setting the opera house ablaze," Gerald added, scanning through his sister's notes on 'the Phantom of the Opera'.

"That's right."

"What was your plan of attack?" He asked, humorously.

Regina inhaled deeply, "well…"

"Yes?"

"You know, it is a funny coincidence that we ran into a bureaucrat tonight…" Regina mumbled, taking another sip of vodka.

"Regina…"

"Gerald, you are not going to like it."

"Humour me."

"Well, I am considering something along the lines of the existence of a co-conspirator." Gerald laughed, causing his sister to widen her eyes. "What?" She barked.

"You have no proof," Gerald stated simply, leaving little room for reasonable argument.

"Well- this is the purpose of the whole trial, is it not?" Regina questioned, as if her brother was missing the point.

"Who were you planning on pinning this one on?"

"The bureaucracy, the civil service in general-" she answered hesitantly.

"Regina-"

"Gerald, the gendarmes beat him within an inch of his life when they found him-"

He interjected sharply, "That was far after his crimes had been committed-"

"That incredible use of police force is not legal in this country!" Regina exclaimed, raising her voice considerably, "I know it as well as you do- and they can be nailed with that. It may undermine all the illegal activity he committed-"

"It will not. He's already as good as dead, Regina."

"He suffered endless abuse as a child, Gerald. It's made him into what he is. Who do we hold accountable for that? Society turned a blind eye on this man, and that's not acceptable."

"And I'm very sorry that happened, but no one is to blame for that- what is done is done! This is not going to hold up in a court of law- not in front of jury. You have no proof of abuse anyway. Try something else."

"No proof, I can make proof. I already have the testimony of an Antoinette Giry who has spoken to it, and Léon has someone as well. I've barely dug into it, but it can be done."

"Regina, I am telling you now- that won't work. You'll piss people off who you do not want to piss off. Try something else," he stated firmly.

Regina leaned back in her seat, "like what?"

Gerald turned back to the documents, "insanity might work in this case. Hell, you can even claim it was a crime of passion, which it seemed to be." Regina sighed, shaking her head.

After the atmosphere calmed down a bit, Gerald continued, "Regina, do you really want to know what I think?"

"Of course I do."

"Listen- this case- it is not about Erik Dupuis."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not about him. He has no future. He is nothing to nobody. Five years from now, no one will remember his name. This trial is much more about you than it is about him,"

"Gerald-"

"Let me continue. This is what you worked for- it is your time in the spotlight. Yes, you got handed a piece-of-shit case, but this is your time to prove yourself to all those assholes. They bullied you into that courtroom. You have to show them what they want to see, and they will believe you. If you start a witch-hunt in the justice department, they will tear you to shreds. I am not telling you this as a lawyer; I am telling you this as your brother."

Regina sighed, looking down into her glass. "I suppose you are right. I just- it's unfair."

"Erik Dupuis does not have a hope in hell. Why do you think you got this case? No one else wanted it. You may not win, Regina. I am warning you now, because I do not want you to set your hopes up too high. It's very unlikely, no matter which path of defence you take," he stated quietly, "But, you are charismatic and charming, and you if can put on a good show, you'll be remembered by it. Just don't bite the hand that feeds you."

He smiled then, in some attempt to provide comfort. "Cheers?" Gerald offered, holding up his glass.

Regina paused for a moment, taking in her brother's advice carefully. "Cheers."


	6. Showtime

_I stayed up well into the next morning after my talk with Gerald. He had a point. Realistically, I did not have a hope of winning this case. I knew it; I just did not want to be told of it. I am perhaps too prideful than I should be. Christ – that was the whole reason I had went to law school in the first place. It was not particularly because law or justice interested me. I'd have been very happy doing what other young ladies did at my age; sit around a fireplace with a cup of tea whilst discussing the current gossip. Perhaps sibling rivalry got the best of me – I could not stand Gerald's success, I was jealous of it and I wanted to do whatever I could to up-stage him._

_So, when he told me I could not trust a hope of winning Erik's case – that is when I decided that I didn't have a choice. I must do it. There was no other option. _

_I had already been through every line of defence applicable to this case. There was only one I could possibly use that might be able to strike some chord within the hearts and minds of the jury and of the judge. Back in Harvard, we called it 'the defence of the damned'. _

_It was strangely fitting, yes?_

_You see, when you know your client is guilty, when everyone else knows your client is guilty – hell, when even your client knows your damn client is guilty – there is not much one can do to prove he is innocent. That avenue is no longer an option. I would be wasting my time and everyone else's time trying to prove he's an innocent man – or rather, that he did not commit the crime he is being accused of committing. The defence of the damned is to turn the tables onto the institution themselves using their own legislation._

_Sure, it's perhaps not the most honourable of all roads to take. But hell, what do I care? I'm a lawyer._

* * *

It was three o'clock in the morning, and Regina was still hunched over the polished oak desk in her personal office, poring over document after document but getting absolutely no where. In frustration, she hurled her pen across the room with such force that it snapped upon hitting the wall. Resting her head in her hands, she sighed loudly, silently wishing there was someone else in the room she could rant her frustrations to...

Regina begrudgingly got up on her feet, sauntering over to the large bookshelf on the far wall. She paused for a moment, looking at the vast combination of texts from her undergraduate years, including an array of classics and legal encyclopaedias. "Where is... ah." Pulling a single document from the top shelf, she wiped the dust from its cover before flipping through it fervently, in search of...

"Aha."

She began to read the preamble of the document out-loud with only the empty, silent room for an audience, _"The French people_," she began, licking her lips "_convinced that forgetfulness and contempts of the natural rights of man are the sole causes of the miseries of the world, have resolved to set forth in a solemn declaration these sacred and inalienable rights, in order that all the citizens, being able to compare unceasingly the acts of the government with the aim of every social institution, may never allow themselves to be oppressed and debased by tyranny; and in order that the people may always have before their eyes the foundations of their liberty and their welfare, the magistrate the rule of his duties, the legislator the purpose of his commission_. _In consequence, it proclaims in the presence of the supreme being the following declaration of the rights of man and citizen_. "

Placing the declaration down for a moment, she lit a cigarette before continuing, "_the aim of society is the common welfare. Government is instituted in order to guarantee to man the enjoyment of his natural and imprescriptible rights._

_2. These rights are equality, liberty, security, and property._

_3. All men are equal by nature and before the law," _Regina sighed, "where is... ah.

_**13. Every man being presumed innocent until he has been pronounced guilty, if it is thought indispensable to arrest him, all severity that may not be necessary to secure his person ought to be strictly repressed by law."**_

Regina smiled as she sat back down, underlining article 13 of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen. "Well, well, I've got you now."

* * *

Faintly, Erik could hear the echoes of the girl's heels as she made her way through the hallway towards his holding cell. He looked over to the gate and surely enough, not a minute later the guard was unlocking it with Mlle. Beaupre at his side. "Thank you," she stated, quickly making her way over to Erik's cell. "M. Dupuis, we need to talk"

"Of course we do," Erik responded sarcastically, much to Regina's annoyance. In response, she sighed quite animatedly.

"The opening statements are tomorrow."

He looked up at her then, noticing the dark lines beneath her eyes. It was the state of sleeplessness that he was far too familiar with. "Mlle. Beaupre, it is hardly necessary to spend every dark hour awake over," he paused for a moment, "this."

Uncharacteristically, she gave no response to his advice, merely opting instead to park herself down at the tiny wooden desk. "When you were... 'arrested' – were you read your rights, M. Dupuis?"

Erik eyed the woman through the bars carefully, "how does this have any-"

"When you are arrested or detained either psychically or psychologically by agents of the state, you must always be read your rights."

"Mademoiselle," he started quietly, a slight edge tinged his voice. "I do not recall."

"Then what in the world can you possibly recall? I know you were beaten when you were arrested, Erik. It is my plan to hold them accountable for it. You must remember something!"

Erik glared at her, forcing her to flinch under his gaze. Never before did she realize how frighteningly captivating his glare was. But she wasn't about to back down now – she met his steely glare eye for eye. Erik curled his upper lip slightly before responding, "I do not want pity from you or from the court."

Regina rolled her eyes and shook her head, lighting a cigarette as she usually did when frustrated or otherwise put out. Finally, "Erik, I have no pity. You seem to forget that – I am merely doing the job I am getting paid to do," she stated bluntly, harshly.

They were silent for quite a while, the only noise occupying the room being their breathing and the steady tap of Regina's pen against the wooden surface. "Why did you do it? What do you think you could have possibly accomplished?" She asked, quietly.

"I do not expect _you,_ of all people, to understand."

"Well – I would at least like to try..."

"Mlle. Beaupre, there is only one thing I have ever wanted or asked for. I'm certain you know what that is. I would move heaven and hell to have had _her. _I would kill for her. I did kill for her."

"Erik..." she needed to tread lightly, she knew that, "have you ever considered – perhaps _that _is the difference between you and Raoul de Chagny? That you would kill for her, and he would die for her?"

"How **dare **you-" he all but roared at her as stalked towards the woman, making damn sure she knew that the only thing keeping him from tearing her into two was the set of iron bars separating them.

"You know very well I am right!" She said, getting up herself to lessen the height advantage Erik had over her.

"How dare you say that to me! Of course I would die for her! I would brave an eternity in hell for _**her, **_you stupid girl!" He reached out then, easily grabbing her neck and violently pulling her towards him and against the bars. He forced them so close that their faces were mere inches away from one another. Regina was frightened, yes, but she would not give him the satisfaction of whimpering or exhibiting any other display of fear. Instead, she reached behind her, grasping her pen. She would jab him with it if she had to. "Raoul de Chagny does not – could never – love Christine more than myself. I want to make that very clear to you. Is it?"

"Release me."

"Is that clear?" He hissed.

"I said, release me M. Dupuis."

Instead, he tightened his grip. "I asked you if that was clear."

"Yes," she croaked out, not a second before threw her down as if the very touch of her scolded his flesh.

"Your breath reeks of that wretched thing you insist on putting in your mouth every half-hour," he spat bitterly at her.

"You are a fucking bastard," Regina snapped back at him, concluding to herself that it was no wonder why Christine had left this bitter, hateful, vile man.

Erik smirked, but there was nothing friendly or gentle the gesture. "Well, it is a bit difficult to fall out of that habit."

It was at that moment when one of the guards walked up to Regina's side, glaring disapprovingly at Erik. "What is going on here?" He then looked at Regina, "did he do anything?"

Regina locked eyes with the Phantom for a moment, knowing if she said yes, then surely he would be beaten. She knew however, that he did not care. And to be honest – had any other man treated her in such a way, she would have jumped on the opportunity to see him beaten for it. However, more than anything right now, Regina wanted to establish some form of rapport with Erik. She wanted him to, at the very least, trust her as his attorney. "No," she responded quietly. "I'd like to go now, please."

"Yes, Mlle. Beaupre."

"Oh, and Monsieur, could you please inform M. Dupuis that I have brought him this suit to wear to the trial tomorrow. I would appreciate it greatly if you would..."

The guard arched his eyebrows, a bit confused as to why she would intend for _him_ to deliver the message to her client, with her client standing not anymore than three feet away. "Yes, of course, Mademoiselle. Now, come this way please..."

"Thank you," Regina responded sweetly, looking back towards Erik for one short moment as she followed the guard out of the holding area.

_It's going to be a long night._

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," M. Farrell confidently began his opening statement, strolling over to the jury box as if he did not have a single worry in the world, "the defendant, Erik Dupuis, is accused of murder in the first degree. The defendant, Erik Dupuis, is also accused of three murders in the second degree, as well as the abduction of Christine Daae, and grand arson. It is your responsibility, as a juror, to deal with truth, and to deal with nothing but the truth, Ubaldo Piangi and Joseph Buquet were diabolically murdered by Erik Dupuis."

"Erik Dupuis' crimes, however, do not conclude there. Oh no, you see, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Erik Dupuis has been a heartless, monstrous criminal for most of his life. Perhaps it began when he manipulated a little girl, Mlle. Daae, into believing he was some kind of 'angel', only to betray her trust by kidnapping her several years later, holding her captive for days. Days in which he frightened her, abused her, and starved her of any human kindness or affection. Days in which she had to live in constant fear of her life," he looked towards the defense's table, noting the look of unimpressed and unconvinced amusement written across the public defender's face.

"Ubaldo Piangi and Joseph Buquet were the unfortunate causalities of Erik's mad obsession with Christine Daae. They had to pay, with their blood, the price of his incredible fixation. Ladies and gentlemen, you know, as well as I do, that this madness – this insanity- cannot be tolerated in this free and democratic society we call home.

"Mlle. Beaupre, the public defender, will play upon your sympathies. She will use every trick in the book. Why? To avoid the noose. Do not, I warn you, do not allow yourselves to fall prey to her tricks. The People's Republic of France will demand you return a verdict of guilty so that this monster – this animal – will receive the punishment in the Bible," Regina looked to her client then, watching him utilize every ounce of self-control he had in order to avoid attacking M. Farrell. She hesitantly placed a slender hand on his leg in an attempt to comfort him – or at least to try to calm him. M. Farrell continued, "the very same punishment commanded by God himself. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. For if **ever**, there was a man guilty of murder, it is Erik Dupuis. And if **ever** a man deserved to die for that crime, it is the accused. Thank you." With those words, M. Farrell took his place at the prosecution's table.

"Thank you, M. Farrell," Judge Chaffee stated, "Mlle. Beaupre, are you prepared to make your opening statement at this time?"

"Your Honour," Regina began, standing up from her seat and walking towards the jury box, each step evenly paced and announced, "ladies and gentlemen of the jury, when I was a child, my idols growing up were not Christina Nilsson, or Adelina Patti; they were Clarence Darrow, and Abraham Lincoln - in other words, I have waited for this moment my entire life – to stand like I am right now in front of twelve good people, and plead the case of an innocent man who has been unjustly accused."

"The only problem I have is that – he did it. I know it," she placed a hand upon her heart, "the prosecution M. Farrell knows it. Erik Dupuis himself knows it... he certainly won't admit to it but he won't deny that he did it either. All those witnesses and evidence that the prosecutor will present you with will all tell you so; Erik Dupuis is responsible for the deaths of Ubaldo Piangi and Joseph Buquet. So, now that we all know that – why don't we find the man guilty as charged, take him out to the back and hang him by the noose – because that's what we all know is going to happen anyway, correct Erik?" She lightly knocked on the defense table then and looked at Erik, smirking at the scowl written on his face towards her remarks.

_If looks could kill... I am certain that one would have slaughtered me._

"There is only one thing keeping us from wrapping this up in record timing," pulling a document out of one of the files on the desk, she held it up for show – although it was at too great a distance for anyone else in the room to recognize initially. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, what I have here before me is the _Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen of 1793. _It was written during the French Revolution, by a commission that counted Louis Antoine Léon de Saint-Just and Marie-Jean Hérault de Séchelles among its participants. Unlike its predecessor, this Declaration emphasizes a far, far greater egalitarian tendency – liberty and equality as its most prevailing right.

"Now, I know what you all are thinking. Erik Dupuis killed a man. Why should this matter? It matters because this is the very document that limits the government's authoritative power over each and every one of you. This is the document that insures that your basic freedoms and liberties are respected in this free and democratic society, and that the government has no right to impede on these freedoms and liberties without just cause."

"I ask you now," Regina walked back over to the defense's bench, pointing towards her client. "What good reason does the state have to impede on this man's rights? Is he not also entitled to the very same rights and freedoms the rest of us are afforded? Oh, right, according to M. Farrell, it is because he is a monster. He is a villain.

"I am, however, inclined to agree with the Declaration itself on this matter," she held it up again, reading word for word from Article 3, "_All men are equal by nature and before the law. _This is no monster we are trying here today. This is a man – a man who is made of the same flesh and blood as the rest of us. For, we, the Republic of France to consider ourselves a just society, he must be afforded his natural rights as well."

"I would like to present to you Article 13 of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen; _Every man being __**presumed innocent until he has been pronounced guilty**__, if it is thought indispensable to arrest him, all severity that may not be necessary to secure his person ought to be strictly repressed by law__**.**_ Erik Dupuis did not resist arrest, but Erik Dupuis was **not **read his rights and he was **beaten** towards an inch of his life. I know it. M. Farrell knows it. This incredible use of force and of violence is unconstitutional and is in violation of M. Dupuis' basic human rights. No one, **no one** in their correct state of mind would agree that the beating M. Dupuis had received upon his arrest was done with as little severity as necessary."

"With that said, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I point to the Chief of Police, M. Jacques Blanchard, the Minister of Justice, M. Alexandre Chevalier and the institution of justice itself and say 'I accuse!' I accuse them individually and collectively,"

The prosecutor was quick to pipe up, "Objection, Your Honour!"

"I accuse them of the unjust torture and the beating of Erik Dupuis!"

"Objection!"

"Erik Dupuis is not going to be the only defendant on trial. The Republic of France will see that justice be served, and that the state should never be permitted to impede the individual rights of any man or of any citizen as outlined in our very own Constitution!"

"Objection!"

"Order!" Judge Chaffee called out, raising his voice over those of the two Counsellors. "I will address M. Farrell's objection tomorrow morning!"

* * *

_I'm very sorry that it's been over a year since this was updated. I know I had planned to sack it, but upon studying for my LSATs I found a way to weed myself out of the hole I had written this story into. I promise, the next chapter will not take nearly as long! __Oh, and yes, I'm aware that human rights were next to irrelevant in 19th century France. However, like I outlined in the first chapter, this story has been pushed forward to the 1920s. :) Not that it's a whole lot better, but it does leave me a bit more room to work with. _

_Edit: Hmm, is the review button stuck? Hundreds of hits but only one review... please guys, I put quite a bit of work into this chapter, and I need some form of feedback to make sure y'all are with me. I don't have a beta, so any feedback you may have I would be very grateful for. Even if you absolutely hate it, please tell me. I've got thick skin, so flame me if you must. Just say *something*. Big thanks to AnimeKitty for reviewing!_


End file.
